He tore the girl’s clothes—moon-pale skin flashed, dewy as porcelain rinsed at dawn. As a First Symphony, she couldn’t condense garments from Mana.

“The taste of a Magic Maiden—I haven’t had it yet.” He licked his lips; greed pooled in his eyes, a hungry wolf sighting easy prey.

He was a rat from the gutter, a face everyone wanted to beat. Usually he skulked far away. But this alley breathed emptiness, night thick as ink. The girl was weaker, a First Symphony. Here he could defile her, then kill her; clean it right, and no one would know.

“You… dare?” Emotion surged first—fear like cold rain. She tried to fight; her voice broke in shards. Not a spark of lightning would form.

She had a tool to cry to her master, but it lay in her Magic Tool. Her wrists and ankles were bound; the Tool wouldn’t open.

“Still dreaming of resistance…” Her skull scraped filthy stone; dull impacts thudded. Warm Blood ebbed from her like a slow stream. Her buzzing mind stayed cruelly clear.

He wouldn’t spare her. If a bottom-feeder stained her, death felt kinder. But even if she killed herself, would he spare her corpse? This pervert, this demon.

She bit her lip hard—bitterness flared. She hated her weak strength, hated her blind eyes. Maybe she should have been more restrained.

“Alright, the show’s over. Let’s go down and check on them.” A shadow fell like soft snow. She dropped; black, round-toed shoes kissed the ground. Pale, slim fingers tapped the man fogged by lust.

His body locked. His head turned like clockwork. A mass of fire slapped across his face—skin sizzled, smoke snaked upward.

Night Frost eyed the newcomer’s soot-smeared face and stifled a laugh. “Hi there, handsome big brother.”

He flailed a ring-hilt blade; his other hand smacked out the burning hair-tip embers. Night Frost’s voice slid in like a cool breeze, snapping him awake. Anger smoked in his eyes, but her outfit and the scars on her kept him back.

“Cantata Two… damn.”

“Cantata Two? Oh, right. I don’t plan to let you off. Bullying a First Symphony proves nothing. How about a round with me instead?”

Fire deepened in her palm. A faint Abyssal Aura threaded through it, staining the flame ash-grey.

“I’m not with the Order Keepers, but I should help my kind—truth is, I don’t want trouble. If you don’t want the Order Keepers on you, two choices. One, leave all your valuables. Two, I kill you here and take everything.”

He chose fast. He dumped his valuables, set them neatly on the ground, then melted into the dark under her stern, dark-gold gaze.

Better a living coward than a dead fool. Part cyborg, part flesh, he knew a Cantata Two could erase him in a blink.

“Oh, running that fast? Mm-hmm, that’s how you stay alive.” Night Frost’s voice lilted like wind.

“You’re special—your hem makes people mistake you for a Cantata Two. But without Black Flame, you’re not the real thing. Be careful.”

“I understand!”

Night Frost stepped lightly, lifting the unconscious girl, propping her against a wall cold as slate.

“You, seriously. No strength, yet cocky—next time, watch it. Blood loss looks heavy… Got any coagulant, Eye Orb?”

“None. And you shouldn’t save her. Then I’d get another Lightning Magic Stone.”

The Eye Orb lay on her bracelet; blue light swept the blonde’s wounds, as the girl had asked.

“I enjoyed watching her get thrashed, sure. But stirring trouble is wrong. Behind her stands a Cantata Two about to enter Cantata Three. If she dies and blame lands on me, what then? Save her and she owes us.”

A thread-thin voice floated up from the blonde. “Mm… in my Magic Tool… there’s a hemostatic pill. Password’s my birthday.”

Night Frost jolted like a startled sparrow. “Oh my god, she’s awake… Did she hear everything I said?”

She poked the half-dead blonde. Gold eyes blinked, star-sparked.

“Ah, out again. Great. Search time.”

Face flushed, she loosened the blonde’s clothes, skirting a firm arc like a hill at dusk. Not gonna lie—Magic Maidens are silk-smooth. She patted her own chest, then coughed. Be reserved.

She finally found a tech-rich box on the girl’s belt.

“I’ll button you up. Hey—what’s your birthday?”

“121…”

Night Frost tried nine digits before the box popped open. Unlucky to the bone, huh? Ten numbers, and still suffering.

The box was small, yet it held a lot—space folded like a quiet lake. Night Frost’s curiosity piped up. How did all this fit? Order Keeper black-tech, right? Her fingers played without thinking.

“You keep playing, and you’ll lose the patient,” the Eye Orb warned, cold as frost.

“I’m looking… Found it! Do I feed this to her directly? She carries so much stuff—plenty of clothes in here too. The girls I met before didn’t have this. Is it rare?”

“Feed the hemostatic pill directly. It’s infused with power from a healing-type Magic Maiden. Weaker than the real thing, but fine for sealing cuts and stopping Blood, for now.”

“The box was crafted by a Seeker. Space magic fused with tech. But girls who flex spatial power are rare, so production is low. The price is sky-high.”

“Mm-hmm. So she’s loaded? Let’s rob her then. Rich enough to turn eyes green.” Night Frost’s smile curved like a crescent.

The Eye Orb pulsed—weren’t you planning to spare her?

“Found a few hundred bucks. We’ll drop her at a motel that skips IDs, then ghost. Nice haul tonight. Heh…”

Night Frost deposited the blonde at a no-ID motel, palmed a few hundred bucks, left a note on the nightstand. She looped through the night, then slid into the rental through an old jutting window.

She released her transformation. Lingchen Yao changed clothes and scrubbed the stray Abyssal Aura with Mana, like wind clearing fog.

He clicked on the desk lamp; warm light spilled like honey. He laid everything flat on the table. Qianchun leaned in, curious as a cat.

A Basic Magic Chant Manual, a wood carving, and several Magic Stones. He handed half the stones to the Eye Orb and kept half. Magic Stones were power banks—when Night Frost ran low on Mana, they topped her up. They’d stretch Lingchen Yao’s fight time post-transformation. No longer a three-minute wonder.

The Eye Orb tucked the stones, then crouched by the carving, studying long as a winter night. Only then did it speak.

“I thought this piece of Abyss wood was special—so special Mana and Abyssal Aura coexisted inside it. I overthought it. Someone carved Mana glyphs into it, forming an array. Arrays are rare, even this. Not what I hoped, but still a surprise.”

“An array? Like those sky-shrouding formations in novels?” Lingchen Yao felt terms piling up like waves. His head throbbed.

“Close. You can build sky-shrouding arrays in reality. But the prerequisites bite—Magic Maidens or a tremendous power source. Arrays demand deep understanding of magic. That’s why large arrays are rare now.”

“You’ve seen one—the barrier that trapped you was a kind of array.”

“So if there are large ones, there must be small ones?”

Lingchen Yao poked the carving. Could this soot-black trinket truly be that magical?

“Yes. Small arrays we call inscriptions. Carved onto Magic Tools, they’re Magic Inscriptions. Magic Tools are expensive because of arrays.”

“More importantly, some arrays or inscriptions don’t need a Magic Maiden at all. Ordinary people can make them, gaining power and wealth… if they have tools that bear Mana.”

The Eye Orb relaxed; with Lingchen Yao untransformed, they finally spoke on the same wavelength. After he transformed, he never listened—yet they were grasshoppers tied to the same rope.

“In that case, if we master arrays, and materials and cores are sufficient, do we even need Magic Maidens? Or will their status take a hit?” Qianchun finally spoke, voice calm as still water.

Lingchen Yao saw the possibility. If arrays grew strong, Magic Maidens might become optional.

“Yes. Someone once researched a simple array and was silenced by Magic Maiden higher-ups. It threatened their interests. Magic Maidens have private motives. Some may be saviors; most were just ordinary folk struggling at the bottom.”

The Eye Orb’s gaze sharpened like a blade.

“When hot-blooded—or greed-blinded—people rule, rebellion sprouts sooner or later.”

“I’m doing okay,” Lingchen Yao said, shrugging like a leaf.

“That’s because Order still runs. The day Order stalls, their vicious faces will show.”